


It's His Party

by turn_turn_turn



Series: May The Fluff Be With You [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a birthday celebration!, also a big helping of Finn/Poe, and Finn/Rey or Finn/Rey/Poe if you want to read it that way, as one should, featuring more of my favorite pairing: Finn/Affection, it's a choose your own 'Finn gets much deserved loving' adventure, timeline for this is that it takes place after TLJ, with the caveat that I am ignoring pretty much all content from TLJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 10:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turn_turn_turn/pseuds/turn_turn_turn
Summary: A few afternoons later, Finn returns to his room to find it already occupied.





	It's His Party

**Author's Note:**

> a little birthday ficlet for my dear pal [onyourleftbooob](http://onyourleftbooob.tumblr.com/) ! happy day, bud - hope this year treats you well!!! 
> 
> <3

Finn sits on a backup fuel tank, swinging his legs idly so that his heels bounce off the side of the container, the dense fluid inside causing the resulting thumps to echo strangely. He’s drinking from a flask of stim tea that General Organa passed him in the corridor, waiting on Poe to finish up with whatever he’s tinkering with in his X-wing.

It’s only been about twenty minutes and he still has his patience, if a little tinged with boredom. He should have brought one of Rey’s books along.

A small commotion on the other side of the room draws his dulled attention: a group of five or six rebels, most in the tell-tale orange of pilot gear, have formed a little cluster toward the back of the hangar, making soft, happy exclamations and passing something around the circle from a small tray.

A minute later Poe jumps down from his cockpit, wiping his hands off on a rag and turning his head back and forth as he surveys the room, clearly looking for something.

A hard, happy tug pulls at Finn’s chest as he realizes that the thing Poe is looking for is _him_. He raises the hand holding the flask to get Poe’s attention, Poe’s responding smile making his chest twinge again; Finn’s not sure he’s ever going to get used to that grin. He sort of hopes he won’t.

Poe hops up to sit beside him on the tank, the long, warm length of his thigh pressed close to Finn’s. Finn smiles and passes him the flask, gesturing toward the group across the room with his free hand. “What are they doing, d’you know?”

Poe considers the group for a second, then swallows his mouthful of tea and says, “Oh, it’s Lef’s birthday. Actually it was last week but, you know - hyperspace chase, imminent threat of death, etcetera - so their friends made them a Banja cake.” He squints his eyes a bit, peering at the tray one of the group is holding, then shrugs. “Or, well, the closest approximation of a Banja cake someone could make on a fighting ship that holds about two ingredients that aren’t in gel form.”

Finn takes the flask back and sips, racking his brain for an explanation to his own confusion. He feels his eyebrows draw together. “Birthday? What, Lef had a _baby_ last week? How on Hoth did I miss that?”

Poe turns toward him. “No, it’s _their_ birthday, _Lef’s_ \- you know. You know?” Finn must look as blank as he feels, because Poe shakes his head slightly and continues, “You don’t know? What, they don’t do birthdays on - oh.” His look of incredulity progresses quickly into a frown. “No they wouldn’t would they - boring, fuckin’ sadistic, fucking uncelebratory _dicks_. That’s…” He trails off, expression twisting again. “Do you even know how old you are?”

Finn shrugs and reaches out to place a hand on Poe’s knee. He’s still not quite sure what Poe is getting at - what is there to celebrate about his age? He thinks back. “Well this must be my twenty-fourth, maybe twenty-fifth year. The FO gives everyone a test in their twentieth and I had mine a while back. But they test everyone on the same day, so I’m not sure about specific dates. I’m pretty sure twenty-fifth year, now that I really think about it - it’s hard to remember things for a while after the test, makes your brain fuzzy.”

Apparently it’s Poe’s turn to look blank. “Pretty sure,” he mumbles, then his mouth goes slightly pinched. “What kind of test?”

Finn drains the last of the tea and tries not to shudder, remembering. This is not the kind of conversation he was hoping to have when he came looking for Poe - he was sort of hoping they wouldn’t be talking at all, actually. “The kind of test where they put electrodes on your head and poke around in your brain with high-voltage shocks for a bit,” he replies, as nonchalantly as he can. “I don’t really know what they were looking for, but they started giving me injections of something every few months afterward, so they must have found whatever it was.”

“Injections?” Poe repeats, his voice gone low and upset.

Finn glances over at his face, steeling himself to see pity in Poe’s eyes, but finds only concern and anger in his expression. He shrugs again, relieved but eager to move away from this subject and on to one Finn really wants to be discussing, such as why Poe hasn’t put his hands on him yet. “Whatever it was, I’m obviously not getting it any more,” he points out offhandedly, sliding his hand up Poe’s thigh a bit, hoping to be obvious enough that Poe will get with the program and start kissing him already - but not so obvious that they ruin Lef’s birthday-whatever with a lewd display.  

Poe’s face stays grim. “That’s - that’s…” He pauses, his eyes searching Finn’s face, then turns to stare over at Lef and their knot of friends. “Hmmm,” Finn hears him murmur.

Finn sighs to himself, then decides to try one more time. He squeezes his hand over the muscle of Poe’s thigh, massaging a little, and - _bingo_.

Poe turns his whole body towards Finn’s in a flash, his eyes blazing; clearly and completely distracted from whatever train of thought he’d been on.

“Hi,” Finn says when their eyes lock, leaning in, feeling triumphant.

“Oh, _hello_ ,” Poe mumbles, smirking a bit, wrapping his hands in the hem of Finn’s jacket - _his_ jacket - and pulling. Their mouths brush together in a tea-scented slide.

_Finally._

\---

A few afternoons later, Finn returns to his room to find it already occupied.

Poe is standing next to his cot, holding a plate of small, greyish, bun-shaped objects covered with a sparkly sort of coating that Finn suspects is supposed to be icing.

“Oh - I was just going to leave the plate for you, but. Surprise, I guess,” Poe says, looking sheepish and starting to blush. He places the plate gently down on the cot next to Finn’s pillow, then knots his hands together in front of his chest.

Finn’s heart seems to have taken a detour to his throat; he swallows around it, almost lightheaded with a sudden, swooping happiness. “What is this for?” he asks, though he suspects he already knows.

Poe’s blush deepens. “Ah, well - I was thinking, uh. Your birthday, I think. You deserve to have one, so I - you can pick the date, it doesn’t have to be today, it doesn’t have to be this _month_ even, I just -”

Finn cuts him off by leaning in close and pressing their mouths together, soft and glad. Poe sighs against his lips, seeming relieved.

“So you don’t mind? Maybe it’s a silly idea, I just thought -”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Poe’s still blushing, but he grins. “Oh, uh. You know, my pleasure, and what not.”

Finn smiles back at him, trying not to laugh outright.

Poe must feel the vibrations of amusement bouncing in Finn’s chest, because he narrows his eyes a bit and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Finn manages squeakily, still attempting to tamp down the giggle hellbent on escape. “Nothing, this is really sweet, Poe - thank you. I’m just - well, I’m just wondering what’s _next_ ,” he teases, unable to help himself.  

Poe’s eyebrows draw up in confusion. “What’s next?”

“Yeah, I mean, first you gave me my name, now you’re picking me a birthday - who are you, my dad?”

Poe’s face contorts into a dramatic scowl. “Ugh no, do not say that - it’s so creepy.”

Finn finally lets himself laugh, reaching for Poe and planting little kisses against the side of his jaw in between giggles. “How is it creepy?”

Poe puts a hand on the back of Finn’s neck and pets him a little. “Well it’s just - you know, a weird way to put it. Especially in light of my ah, decidedly un-paternal - non-maternal - _not at all_ parental feelings toward you.” His face is lighting up in a blush all over again, and it’s all Finn can do not to guffaw right in his face; he’s just so _cute_ when he’s flustered like this.

It makes Finn want to squeeze him. And embarrass him even more. He goes for both, smiling against Poe’s cheek as he whispers, “Oh c’mon, _daddy_ -”

Poe wriggles away a bit, groaning in dismay. “Sweet Potentium, no. No, no, _no_. Absolutely not. Stop that right now -”

Finn laughs again and tries to reel him back in.

“Seriously, ew,” Poe continues, but gives up struggling and wraps his arms around Finn’s back. “You’re ruining it - this was supposed to be thoughtful and sweet, not -”

“Hey, it’s my party - I can make you cry if I want to,” Finn points out, smiling into Poe’s hair.

“You are a horrible man of uncertain age,” Poe sighs into his ear. “And sadly I don’t think the two of us and some slightly overcooked cakes really qualifies as a party, but, well - I tried. Anyway, if you want your other birthday present you will stop taunting me immediately.”

“A present huh?” Finn pulls back slightly, searching for Poe’s lips.

Poe kisses him sweetly, but with a bite at the end that makes Finn think -

Finn smiles against Poe’s mouth. “Aha, so I get to have my cake and eat -”

He’s cut off by the mechanical hiss of the door sliding open, admitting a tired-looking Rey, BB-8 hot at her heels.

“Hey guys, what’s up,” Rey greets them, throwing herself down on Finn’s cot with a grunt. “What are these?” she questions, gesturing to the little plate and its tiny grey cakes. She picks one up and shoves it in her mouth without waiting for an answer.

BB-8 rolls toward the shelves embedded in the wall and starts poking lazily through Finn’s minimal possessions; Finn isn’t sure how something without a face can manage to look bored, but they pull it off.

“Those are cakes - cakes for _Finn_ ,” Poe answers Rey, a small divot creased between his brows that smooths away almost instantly - he knows Finn would want to share. “How’s it taste?” he asks eagerly.

Rey chews meditatively for a beat, then grimaces. “On a scale from one to Green Milk I’d say it’s about a nine.”

Poe swivels his head to meet Finn’s eyes, one eyebrow quirked halfway up his forehead. “What does that mean?”

Finn shrugs, the movement of his shoulders jostling Poe a bit. “Dunno, but it doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Poe looks back to Rey. “What’s ‘Green Milk?’”

Rey shudders exaggeratedly. “You don’t even want to know, bud. As far as these cakes go, I’d say they’re probably a fraction more appetizing than Wookie shit - and that’s me being generous,” she elaborates. She grabs another cake, finishing it in a few perfunctory bites.

Poe’s face falls. “What, really? Fuck. And I followed the instructions exactly! It’s gotta be a fault of the recipe -”

“Or you’re just a horrible cook,” Finn teases him. He presses nose into Poe’s neck and inhales. He smells wonderful and strange; something spicy and clean and entirely Poe.

Poe sighs dejectedly, leaning into Finn’s touch. “That could be it. I mean if a girl that used to eat sand thinks my cooking is bad it must be pretty -”

“I didn’t eat _sand_ ,” Rey scoffs, rolling her eyes. Then she shrugs. “Well not intentionally, anyway. I mean sometimes it just blows into your mouth when - never mind. Why does Finn get cakes anyway?”

“Well the tedious, horrible fascists in the FO didn’t let him keep his birthday, so we picked him a new one - we’re celebrating.”

“Wam’ss uh burfnay?” Rey asks around a mouthful of cake, her face blank with confusion.

Finn’s pillow is quickly becoming coated with crumbs, but he doesn’t feel like telling her off. It’s a party after all.

“Oh man, you too?” Poe groans. “You are both so tragic.” He squeezes the bridge of his nose between two fingers, looking pained. Then he drops his hand and points at Rey with a businesslike authority. “Well then we’ll pick a birthday for you too! And I’ll make you your own cakes - we’ll try a different recipe. One that’s less Wookie shit and more something you’d actually want to eat, hopefully.”

“I get one too?” Rey grins, looking thrilled and munching on a third cake. “Finn we could have the same one!”

At this point BB-8 starts beeping in an urgent tone and prodding at Poe’s calf with an extension probe.

“Alright, alright. I heard you,” Poe tells them, extricating himself from Finn’s arms and moving towards the door at BB-8’s urging. “I gotta go check in with Leia.”

Finn sighs and drops onto the cot next to Rey, who wastes no time in wrapping her long legs around his waist and pulling him down for a cuddle. Finn reaches up to hold her arms tight to his chest, loving the feel of her wiry strength and her simple warmth at his back; he’s definitely a sucker for being tiny spoon, or whatever Poe calls it.

Rey blows a raspberry against his neck, making him squeak and burrow back against her.

She smells good too, like sweat and hydraulic oil - she must have been crawling into engines with Rose again.

Poe watches them from the doorway with a bemused little smile on his face, his eyes soft, seeming to have momentarily forgotten his summons; BB-8 retaliates by extending his torch arm and singeing the hem of Poe’s sleeve.

Poe jumps. “Ouch! Okay, let’s go already, geesh. I’ll be back later. We can celebrate more, maybe look up a better cake recipe - or better yet, ask someone who actually knows what they’re doing to make some for us. We’ll do _something._ If anyone deserves a nice birthday, it’s the two of you.”

“Awe Poe, that’s very sweet,” Rey coos from behind Finn’s head. “You’re such a good Daddy.”

Poe’s face screws up in distaste. “ _No_ \- not you too. Stop trying to make it weird! I’m trying to be considerate, not -”

“Kinky?” Rey interrupts.

“Gah!” Poe exclaims, turning his back to them and moving quickly out the door.

“Oh c’mon, Poe!” Rey calls after him.

“It’s our birthday!” she and Finn shout together.

Poe continues moving down the corridor, flipping them off over one shoulder as he goes.

Rey chuckles, making Finn’s head bob up and down against her shoulder. “He’s so _easy_ ,” she muses. “And sweet.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees sincerely and feels himself go red, slightly embarrassed by how he managed to make one syllable sound so thoroughly fond and sappy.

Rey doesn’t let him get away with it; she pokes him in the side and wheedles, “You’re so fucking smitten! You’re all glow-y and gooey.”

Finn puts his palms over his face and groans into them. He feels like a great, burning ball of contentment. He feels like he could power the Starkiller Base all on his own - you know, if Poe hadn't blown it up. “I totally am, aren’t I? It’s just - damn, Rey. He wants to - he wants to _give me things_ ,” he manages in a strained voice, still half-disbelieving.   

“I’ll _bet_ he does,” Rey snorts.

He pinches her arm. “Don’t start. No, it’s just - he wants me to have things. I can’t remember the last time someone wanted something for me - the First Order wanted things _from_ me, all the time, but never -”

“I get it,” she relents, her tone gone soft, almost wistful.

He pats her arm and grips it tight again, hoping she knows just how much he wants for her, too - wondering how he can show her that he does. He doubts he’d be any better at baking than Poe.

“Well it’s a good thing that what he wants to give you is barely edible,” Rey sighs, and not for the first time Finn questions whether Skywalker taught her how to read minds while they were cooped up together on Hermit Island. “Imagine if he was that thoughtful _and_ good in the kitchen - you’d probably fall down dead from lust.”

Finn barks a laugh and feels Rey grin against the back of his neck. “What, a horniness overdose?”

“Here lies Finn,” Rey mock-orates. “Big shot rebel and unfortunate victim of a Fatal Erection. Taken from us all too soon at the tender age of - how old are you, d’you think?”

“Twenty-five - no, wait, twenty-six.”

“Can’t decide?”

Finn smiles and leans back further into her embrace, feeling lucky and so happy he could burst. He suspects that’s exactly what Poe was aiming for, and feels joy fizz through him again at the thought. “Just adjusting. Didn’t you hear? Today’s my birthday.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> Regarding the 'FO test and injections' Finn and Poe discuss: this is just a little thought I had about the FO and how they'd likely be on the lookout for Force-sensitivity among their troops, with the idea that they'd have some sort of routine testing they'd apply (probably not a nice test, knowing them). NOW likely the FO would just kill off any troops that tested 'positive' for Force-sensitivity, as such a tool has probably proved itself to breed dissent in the past BUT if they didn't want to loose otherwise healthy troops perhaps they'd developed a Force-Attunement Suppressant?? Some sort of drug they could administer (on the assumption that using the Force is like having another sense, with some part of it based in biology)?? Anyway, just a little headcanon I haven't fully fleshed out but I thought we could tinker with.  
> Basically: you can pry Force-sensitive Finn out of my cold, dead hands. Also with this headcanon is the idea that after he’s been away from the FO for a few months the suppressants have worked their way out of his system and he would start to display more Force-centric abilities!! He and Rey could train together, plotting Kylo-specific murder and making up cute synchronized lightsaber routines!! Hell yeah.


End file.
